Mantle
by Menamebephil
Summary: He probably wouldn't want this. He would probably prefer to slink out of history, completely forgotten, his part over. Well, tough. The story of a costume, in three parts.
1. Remember

Remember

**Remember.**

**Just a little oneshot explaining a couple of Rikku's outfits in Final Fantasy X-2. Yeah, I know, it's not my usual genre. Deal with it. AuRikku if you squint.**

--

It wasn't fair, ya know?

Actually, she should specify the topic. A lot of things weren't fair. She listed them as she made her way through the underbelly of the airship.

It wasn't fair that Yunie had had her heart broken. It wasn't fair that Home had been destroyed. It wasn't fair that so many had died to get them this far. It wasn't fair that even though not three weeks ago she had helped defeat a tyrannical regime, she had still run into people that judged her by the clothes she wore. Or the patterns in her eyes.

But what she had found most unfair of all was the division of grief. There had been no funerals, of course. It was slightly awkward to hold a funeral for one man ten years too late, and for another man that had been just a shade above imaginary. Or something. It had all got weird at the end there. What remained of the group had met two days ago, before temporarily parting ways. There had been a lot of reminiscing, wistful remembrances of good times. Tidus had been the focal point. Not that there was anything wrong with that.

After all, he had made such an impression on everybody. The heart and soul of the team, never giving up, never losing hope, or faith.

It was just that Rikku found herself annoyed that he was getting all the attention. After all, they had lost more than one teammate that day. Lost more than one friend.

She got to the door, and found, of course, that it was locked. Paranoid old man. Not that that was going to stop her, of course.

As she broke in to the man's room, she still thought about the meeting. After Tidus, she felt that she had grown to know the man the best, not that that was saying much. Well, perhaps Kihmari had known him better, but the Ronso was never the talkative type. Strong, silent, and furry, that was Kihmari Ronso. So the cat was never gonna eulogise him. Yunie had, of course, been understandably distracted, and Wakka and Lulu had never really known the man. Rikku had never found a comfortable point to bring him up.

They had remembered the conversations they had had, of Tidus's long ad libbed speeches, and the endearing way they almost always ended in confusion. The old man had never been one for words.

The lock clicked, and the door swung open. Rikku was completely unsurprised by the Spartan dwellings. There was a bed, and a trunk in the corner, and that was it. Not one for his creature comforts. She made her way over to the trunk, and examined the heavy padlock.

They had remembered all the times Tidus had stood defiant, staring down his enemy and arguing even on the brink of annihilation. Glory goes to those that shout the loudest. Ol' Grouchy didn't usually waste words on the enemy.

Well, apart from "Farewell", anyway.

No, what should be remembered was the way _no one_ got the drop on him, the way _nothing_ flustered him, the way that there was _nothing_ he couldn't take on, and _no one_ he couldn't take down. And already people were forgetting. He belonged to the prequel of this adventure.

The padlock snapped, revealing exactly what Rikku had expected. Swords. She hefted one, surprised that she could even bear its weight. The blade shimmered in her hand, and she traced a finger idly over the gold insignia while cradling the sword on her knees.

She remembered the way he had wielded these swords, so cocky, so confident, so _smug_. And damn if he didn't have the skills to go with it.

She checked what else was in the trunk, and was surprised to see the other sword in there. She hefted it out reverently, her knuckles whitening around the rainbow hilt, trying to compensate for the huge weight of the weapon. The Masamune. He hadn't taken it, into that last fight. He'd just used a katana instead, an old, notched and dull blade. She placed a hand on the flat of the blade to balance the weight, and nicked her finger on one of the curved spikes. Cursing to herself in Al Bhed, she checked the trunk for a cloth to wrap the fearsome weapons in. She found one. Pulling it out, she stared at the red cloth.

It was a spare robe. For some reason she found the idea incredibly funny. Perhaps it was for laundry days? No, it must have been an old one, from when he was younger. She noted that the red was faded, and the buckles around the wrists were broken. Idly, she wondered how that had happened.

The image appeared, unbidden, of the old man trying to do up the buckles one day and snapping them in frustration when they wouldn't fit.

Taking the blades and wrapping them in the robe, she hefted the bundle, staggering under the weight. At least she could lift them, although getting them back to her room might be a problem.

She smirked when she remembered trying to lift one of his swords back in Guadosalam. The weapon had weighed almost as much as her, and when she had tried to heft it the weight had sent her tottering backwards. Tidus had been in hysterics. Grumpy had not been amused.

_Ha, I can lift _two_ of them now. Pretty impressive, huh old man?_ The thought of his reaction to the feat distracted her from the weight for a while until she realised that his reaction would like as not be an indifferent harrumph.

Staggering back to her own room, she dropped the blades on her bed with a clang. After looking at them for a while, she picked up the shimmering blade, and gave it a practice swing. It had taken both hands, but she was sure she'd get the hang of it.

This probably wasn't what Grumpy had wanted. He'd probably wanted to just slink into the background, forgotten. He'd never looked comfortable on a pedestal.

_Well, too bad for him_. Rikku thought as she stared at the red garment, wondering how much taking in it would need before it was wearable. _I'm not forgetting you anytime soon, Auron._

--

**Well? Good? Bad? Terrible? Let me know. And tell me if you'd like to see some more FFX oneshots. I like input.**


	2. Compensating

Compensating

**Compensating.**

She remembers the first time that she used the suit in battle. She remembers Paine's confusion at such a strange getup, and Yuna's utter shock at the resemblance. The bandits they had been fighting had been more concerned with the huge sword. Sure, Rikku had jazzed up the outfit a little, adding white where the sleeve buckles had been, and shortening it a little, but it was still unmistakable to anyone who had met the legendary Guardian. Still, she had done the job, albeit with less finesse than the blade's original owner could have managed it. Later, she had explained to Paine just who the weapon and garments had belonged to, and had received the shock of her life when Paine had made a horrifying transformation: into a Squealing Fangirl. Well, not actually _squealing_, but a damn sight closer than anyone had ever seen the stoic girl get before. Paine had actually been pretty close to hyperventilating when Rikku had showed her the Masamune, which she kept in a hidden locker behind the bar in the Celsius.

What could she say? The girl had a weakness for big swords.

And then Yuna had confronted her, in the least confrontational way possible, and asked her (very politely) what she was doing with Auron's equipment. Unwilling to give a proper answer, for several reasons, one of which being the fact that she barely knew herself, she had gone on the offensive, and countered with a question asking what exactly Yuna was doing with the Brotherhood, which in all logic should have gone back to Wakka.

However, although this had stopped the questions, it had also given Yuna completely the wrong idea. She didn't wear his cloak and carry his sword as a kind of reminder of a lost love, as Yuna carried the Brotherhood. The reasons were a little more complicated than that.

Although she would freely admit to having a crush on the guy since day one (no, scratch that, day five. In those five days he had gone from being simply frightening to frighteningly attractive.), there had never been a secret affair or anything, mainly due to the fact that she was a minor at the time, and he was old enough to be her father, at least biologically. Rikku wore the robe to hide.

To tell the truth, she had never been too comfortable as Yuna's Guardian. She had, on some level at least, considered herself too young, too inexperienced, and too childish. So, naturally, she had tried to counteract that by staying close to the strongest, most experienced, and oldest of the group. It had worked, too, and she certainly hadn't minded the arrangement.

And then he had to go and do something stupid like _die_ on her. Well, sort of. And she had no idea what to do. So she'd taken the two things that, two her, represented him the most. The robe, for the air of mystery that pervaded him, and the blade, for the strength he wielded.

She wasn't possessed of an indomitable will, like Yuna. She wasn't self-reliant, like Paine. She needed a prop, to mask her insecurities. So, when she felt like she couldn't go on, she wore the robe, and hefted the mighty sword. As if some essence of the man remained in the fabric and the steel.

It worked, too. When she wore it, she felt there was something about it, some air, a musk, almost, although that would be ridiculous, and this strange prescence would fire up her muscles and stimulate her brain and she would be ready to take on the world.

It was the same with the sword. She would be the first to admit that she wasn't the strongest girl out there, although Paine would probably save her the trouble and admit it for her, but that sword, that long, sharp, _heavy_ sword that even Paine had trouble wielding, seemed more an extension of her arm than any external weapon. In the heat of battle, she would sometimes catch herself performing moves that she had never learned.

But it only worked when it was the full ensemble. Without the robe, the sword was just a lump of metal. Without the sword, the robe was just fabric.

Sometimes, she thinks that it's a placebo, her mind playing tricks on her, a small part of her subconscious waking up and playing the part of that man who had been her pillar of strength. Her fortress. Her rock. She wonders if he knew what he had meant to her, and decides he probably did. He _was_ Auron, after all. And, because he was Auron, he had left anyway. That was very like the teacher in him. Get you dependant on something, then take it away and see how you cope.

Sometimes, she had hated her dependence on a man long gone, that memories should have such effect on her, but she had realised that just because someone was gone it didn't mean that they were _gone_. Not really. Not until the clock that they had wound up wound down, until the food they had made was eaten, or until the chair they had made broke. So that was why she wielded his equipment, took on his mantle. So in some small way he would never really die.

Sometimes she thinks about getting sunglasses, but decides that they only worked for him because of their sheer _uselessness_. He only had one good eye. He wore the things underground, and in the middle of the night. In the forest. In the middle of a battle. Without taking a scratch. And he never wore them actually over his eyes. And if she got the glasses then she'd have to get the big clodhopping boots and there was _no way_ she was running around in those things. Besides, that was probably the point when it stopped being reverential and just became creepy.

She grins when she remembers how she teased him about his huge sword compensating for something. She stares at her shimmering reflection in the blade, and realises that it's _her_ who's compensating now.

_It doesn't really matter._ She thinks. _At least he won't be forgotten. Not while I'm around, playing dressup. _Rikku chuckled, and slipped her arms into the fiery red sleeves.


	3. Reminiscing

Reminiscing

**Reminiscing.**

**I realise that chapter one contained some character-bashing, which I hate. I justify that by saying that Rikku was in a bad mood, which she probably was. So, to balance things out, here is a shot from a different perspective. Almost certainly the last one in the series.**

**--**

He sat on the sands, a respectful distance from the girl with the serious expression and the huge sword. She was training, an air of concentration around her that seemed almost alien. He had to stifle a grin when she paused to breathe, and hefted the blade onto her shoulder in an inescapably familiar way. Except he could never remember the old man needing to breathe.

So engrossed was he in the strange scene that he barely noticed Yuna coming and sitting beside him. Draping his arm around her shoulders, they sat in comfortable silence for a while. Eventually, he broke the silence.

"What's with the, y'know, outfit?" He gestured to the red figure further down the beach, currently engrossed in beating the crap out of some wooden posts.

Yuna smiled, slightly. "It is Sir Auron's old coat, and one of his swords."

His jaw dropped. "No way…" He paused. "Why has _she_ got them? Did he leave a will?"

Yuna laughed, lightly. "He did leave a will, but his weapons and robe were not mentioned. We assume she stole them from his room."

"Oh. Figures." The silence returned, broken sporadically by the hacking sound the sword made on wood. "Did you ask her?"

Yuna nodded. "She evaded the question, and asked me why I carried that." Here she pointed at the sword lying next to him.

His eyebrows knotted, working out the implications of that statement. "What, so…you think they were…" His voice trailed off, his brain trying desperately to avoid a whole series of unpleasant mental images.

"I thought that for a while, but it does seem unlikely."

"Phh, yeah. Her? And the old man? He was, what, thirty five? And she was fifteen."

Yuna smiled. "I do not believe that would have stopped her."

"Yeah, but it would sure have stopped him." He grinned at the thought of the serious warrior trying to gracefully avoid the advances of a hyperactive Rikku.

"She wrote a song, you know." Yuna said, after another pause.

"Oh?"

"We think it was about him." Yuna said, distractedly.

"Did you ask her about it?"

"No, but it said a lot of things about stories and coming to an end."

He could barely suppress a laugh. "That sounds like Auron alright. Always talking about stories." A memory came back to him, and he smiled. "I remember the only time I think I offended him."

Yuna looked sidelong at him. "Yes? When was that?"

He chuckled. "I used to yell at him a lot. I told him he was cranky, that he was old, that everything was his fault, that he was a smug old bastard, but the only time I got to him was when I told him I didn't care about his stories. He just gave me this _look_, you know. It scared the crap outta me, I can tell you."

Yuna laughed into her hand. "He had that effect on people. I wondered what it was. Perhaps it was the fact that he said so little, or maybe it was his reputation."

"I don't know about you, the way he waved that thing around was what did it for me." He replied, waving a hand at the red figure wielding the flash of silver.

"Perhaps." Yuna replied. She scowled. "Something troubled me about that man for the longest time."

"What?"

"He had all the answers. He knew Yevon was a parasite, he knew that Sin was created by the Final Summoning, he knew _everything_, and he didn't tell us. He waited until we found out on our own, usually at an inconvenient moment."

"Well, would we have believed him if he told us? _I_ might have, being new and all, but Wakka might have tried to have him arrested, or something. At least it explains why the fabled Warrior Monk never did any praying."

Yuna unexpectedly laughed. "We must have irritated him quite a bit, when we were on the pilgrimage, talking about our faith in Yevon."

He laughed at that. "He must have had one hell of an internal monologue going the whole time." They both laughed at that.

They talked, and remembered, as the sun bled on the horizon and turned the colour of a faded old robe, and Yuna smiled as she remembered Auron's final message, and Rikku walked over to them, grinning widely and clearly exhausted, and they all drank from a flask of water and silently toasted the old man.

_This is your world now._

"I hope you like what we've done with the place." Yuna murmured to herself.


End file.
